


Fight the Starless Midnight

by Maab_Connor



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Auror, Community: hd_holidays, Dark Magic, First Time, HP: EWE, Hate Crimes, M/M, Medical, Racism, Rimming, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:45:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maab_Connor/pseuds/Maab_Connor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry thought that he was going to arrest Healer Malfoy for practicing without a license.  Nothing ever goes as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight the Starless Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maraudersaffair](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Maraudersaffair).



> My title comes from this quote, I love it and I think it applies to this fic: I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word. ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

**Author:** maab_connor  
 **Recipient:** Maraudersaffair  
 **Title:** Fight the Starless Midnight  
 **Pairing(s):** Harry/Draco, mentions Ron/Hermione and OMC/OFC  
 **Summary:** Harry thought that he was going to arrest Healer Malfoy for practicing without a license. Nothing ever goes as planned.  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:** All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.  
 **Warning(s):**  
racism, species-ism (made up word, yes, but I’m sticking with it)  
 **Epilogue compliant?** EWE, though I do admit that there are bits and pieces from the epilogue.  
 **Word Count:**  
~21k  
 **Author's Notes:** Huge thanks to my beta, L, who was right there for me when I had a meltdown in her general direction, she is awesome and I love her. And M without whom, this fic would not be here. And finally to Lila who made me smile when I really needed it as well as being an awesome beta. My title comes from this quote, I love it and I think it applies to this fic: I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality.... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word. ~Martin Luther King, Jr.

I really hope you like it, Maraudersaffair! Happy Holidays!

~~~

Harry banged his head against his half of the partner’s desk in frustration. Auror Clive Martin looked up from his parchment, on which he’d been scribbling furiously, and quirked a bushy black eyebrow at his partner. “Problem, Potter?”

“I hate my life,” Harry mumbled into his paperwork.

“Going to have to be a bit more specific, mate.” Martin pulled back his curtain of dreadlocks and tied them at the nape of his neck.

“This case is never going to end.”

“More than likely,” Martin agreed. “Look, Potter, I know that we all become Aurors hoping to save the world every week and uncover plots of dark magic, but it’s mostly paperwork and interviewing neighbors. Especially now.”

Harry gave half a laugh. “I knew I should have let some rogue Death Eaters go.”

“They did make life more interesting,” Martin agreed and turned his attention back to his parchment.

Harry loved that his partner had a dark sense of humor. “Today was supposed to be the wedding day,” Harry admitted.

“Which one?”

“Mine and Ginny’s,” Harry said.

“Right, no, got that. I meant which date. You guys rescheduled a million times.”

Harry threw a quill at him. “The final date. The date that was called off rather than postponed.”

Martin sighed a put-upon sigh. “Potter, please, please, please don’t tell me you’re going down that path again. I don’t think I can survive that ride again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Chocolate brown eyes met Harry’s. “Please tell me you’re taking the piss. _I love her,_ ” he said in a mocking, falsetto voice. “ _I just don’t know if I love her enough. I don’t know if I’m IN love with her. Oh, woe is me, I am such a tragic hero_.”

“I sound nothing like that.”

“You’re not sitting on this side of the desk. Trust me, Potter, finally calling it off for good was the best decision Ginny could have made. Neither of you wanted to get married.”

Harry shot his partner a sidelong glare, backed up by a pout. “She and Dean Thomas just announced their engagement.”

Martin shrugged uncaringly. “So she just didn’t want to marry you. Point is, it was a good decision. You two made each other miserable, and that made me miserable. And let’s face it, that’s what really matters.”

“Your empathy is overwhelming.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, sunshine.”

Harry was smiling when he got back to work.

~~~

“Madam.” Draco gave his detached professional smile to the hag. “How is Mardoc today?” He looked to the bundle of cloth she was carrying, knowing that her son was sleeping soundly in there.

“He’s still feeling poorly,” she rasped. “He only just got to sleep.”

“Come on back.” He led them to a small exam room at the back and tried not to sigh; poor Mardoc had so many health problems. So many of the half-humans Draco took care of did; had he been allowed to be a Healer at St. Mungo’s rather than here in a boarded up storefront in the shoddiest part of London, he would have been seen as one of the finest in his field. Or that’s what he liked to think.

Much as he hated it, Draco knew he was needed here; and he needed the work as well. After the war had ended, Draco had just sort of fallen into becoming a Healer; there had been so many hurt and wounded, and so few Healers were there to take care of them. Draco was good with potions and fast with wand-work and had caught on quickly. And he had loved it.

After the trials, when his father had been sentenced to death and his mother to ten years incarceration, Draco had been surprised that he too hadn’t been hauled off to Azkaban; but the most surprising thing of all had been Harry Potter, of all people, walking into the Wizengamot on his behalf. Harry had put on record that Draco had been the worst failure of a Death Eater who had ever existed and had even taken a few liberties as to what had happened in the Room of Requirement; Draco had sounded like a hero. He found out later that Harry’s word had saved Narcissa as well, though he’d never found out exactly how. So Draco had taken the meager means he’d been left with and gone to St. Mungo’s and asked to join the Healers Apprentice Program.

He’d been denied flat out.

But France - where the Malfoy family still had a small vineyard and accounts that the Ministry hadn’t been able to touch – had been more forgiving, and he had gone there to study. He had completed the course with honors and had returned to London, hoping that the five years that had passed had had some impact on the forgiveness of the English wizarding world.

It had not.

Draco had decided right then that he would visit his mother and then go back to the continent where he had been more welcomed.

There were no wizarding means of entering Azkaban Prison any more, and so the Ministry would ferry the visitors, mail and replacement Aurors across one day a week. It was on the return trip where Draco had met Natalie Sinclair, bastard daughter of a Death Eater and a wood nymph. Natalie had fallen ill that morning, and the two hour wait in a damp, drafty, dreary waiting room while her father had refused to see her had not helped at all. Draco had pulled out his small Healer’s valise and seen to her on the ferry ride back.

And now, rather than having a small but successful vineyard and a small but successful Healer’s practice in the Bordeaux region of France, Draco was healing half-breeds and low-lives and castoffs in the seediest area of London. The wizarding world had cast him aside, and he knew that it wasn’t without reason; but those whom he was helping had been cast aside with no reason and no cause other than simply not fitting in; he couldn’t do the same.

Mardoc was one of his most seen patients; human and hag physiology were clearly never meant to mix, and the poor tyke had terrible health problems because of it. As his mother – whose name Draco had no hope of pronouncing and so simply called ‘Madam’ – unbundled the sleeping child, Draco noticed that the usually grey coloring of the boy’s skin was slightly flushed.

“He’s been a bit warm all day,” Madam explained.

Draco ran a few quick diagnostic spells. “He is running a small fever. Any other symptoms?”

“He hasn’t been eating very well.”

“Did he respond at all to the more human diet?”

“At first he seemed to, but then he stopped eating again.”

Draco checked the boy’s stomach. “Did you follow the instructions Nurse Mayweather gave you for cooking?”

“Well, I do try to,” Madam said. “But it’s just so difficult. It’s just so much simpler how we hags eat. How does one know when the meal is finished?”

“It’s difficult,” Draco agreed as he waved his hand and an interspecies tea set wheeled into the room and began to serve itself. “I had to learn how to cook later than most as well, and there were quite a few times when my stomach did not appreciate my attempts. You find a balance.” He carefully transferred Mardoc to his own arms and slipped a small stomach-settling potion into a half cup of cooled tea; Mardoc barely woke as he sipped the lukewarm liquid. “And if you find that you’re still in a bit of a spot, Muggle shops have what they call prepared foods, all you need do with those is heat them up. Should you decide to go that route then just let me know and I’d be happy to formulate a glamour potion for you. Until then, cook meat until it’s brown the whole way through, cook eggs until the white doesn’t run and don’t try pork or chicken at all until you’ve got a handle on beef and eggs. And refer to the list of herbs and foods that are poisonous to human stomachs.”

“Oh, I do check that all the time. Had to give up a few of my own favorites, but it’s worth it to see him healthy.”

“You’re doing a fantastic job. Statistics say that he shouldn’t have lived beyond two weeks, and look at him now, a year and a half. He’s a fighter. And so are you.”

She blushed a bit under her grey skin and nodded in acceptance of the compliment.

Once Draco got them all set up and on their way, he closed up the office, locked and warded the potions cabinet, finished up the last of his filing and then locked and warded the front door with some of the most advanced spellwork ever created and headed to the market before going home for the night.

~~~

One of Martin’s sources sent him an owl; it said that there was an illegal potions dealer he knew of who was making a massive drop that night at seven in one of the dodgier parts of London. He and Harry grabbed their wands and went out to stake out the location before the dealer was due to come through.

They found a line of overly-full bins in the alley where the deal was supposed to take place and settled down uncomfortably behind their barely-adequate cover. Fifteen minutes later the dealer showed up, just like the source said he would. Another ten minutes and the contact showed up, heavily cloaked and lost in shadow. Harry and Martin made the decision to stay, and wait it out; bust the dealer later in order to be able to bust the contact as well. That was the plan, straight and simple and easy.

Five minutes later the plan went pear shaped.

A cat that had been at the other end of the alley from where Harry and Martin were hiding had flushed out a mouse, and in the ensuing nature special the cat knocked over the trash can that Martin had been using for cover. Suddenly, there had been spell-fire volleying across the tiny space.

The hooded and hidden contact had fired a spell at Martin, and Harry jumped in the way; taking the spell himself. By the time Martin trained his wand back to the targets, the two men Disapparated. Martin couldn’t follow because Harry was on the ground in the middle of a massive seizure.

Martin dropped down to a knee and tried _Finite Incantatem_ to no avail. He was starting to panic and wonder if he would be able to Apparate them to St. Mungo’s when suddenly there was someone there next to him.

“What was he hit with?” the man demanded before a quick series of diagnostic spells were rattled off.

“I don’t know… it happened too fast. I didn’t hear the spell.”

“Help me carry him to my infirmary.”

Harry was no longer convulsing, and Martin was still panicking, so he picked up his partner as the medic picked up a brown paper bag and led the way at a jog. They went just barely a block before the medic was taking down an impressive number of wards on a half-glass door before opening it and ushering Martin in.

“Wooden door right there,” the Healer said as he pointed toward the back. “Give me two ticks.”

Martin carried Harry back, and put him down on an exam table. He was starting to calm down now, and it occurred to him that there wasn’t a licensed mediwizard in this part of town. The tall, lithe, blond man came in, drying his hands; he looked familiar, but Martin couldn’t quite place where he’d seen him.

“He hasn’t regained consciousness?” the Healer questioned.

“Not yet. He’s not shaking anymore, obviously.”

“Potter always was a drama queen.” The Healer handed Martin a potion vile. “Pour this down his throat; it should work.”

“What is it?” Martin asked.

“Monkshood infused with mugwart.”

“Are you serious? That’s what I give my daughter when she has a headache.”

The Healer nodded. “As you should, as that’s what it does. If he was hit with what I think he was, and the counter-curse rather proves me right, then the only reason for him to still be unconscious would be if he has some swelling in the blood vessels around his brain. That’s a bit stronger than what you would give a child, but the basic concept is the same.”

Martin nodded and gave Harry the potion. “You called him by name.”

“We attended Hogwarts together.”

“You look familiar. Have we met?”

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t believe we have. Healer Malfoy,” the man said as he held out his hand.

“Auror Martin. Are you related to the… infamous Malfoys?”

“That’s probably one of the nicer ways I’ve heard it referred to. Yes. I’m Draco Malfoy.”

Recognition flashed through the Auror’s eyes just as Harry made a noise as he came round.

“Welcome back Auror Potter,” Malfoy said crisply. “How are you feeling?”

“Malfoy? Dear Merlin I’m in hell.”

“I’ve heard this neighborhood called worse. How are you feeling? Headache? Eye strain?”

Harry blinked owlishly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Pain in the arse, clearly you’re fine. Auror Martin, take him home, pour some more of that potion down his throat-“

“He’s trying to poison me,” Harry interrupted.

“Or leave him in pain if he’s really still so pigheaded. Now, if you’ll take your partner out of my office, I have a supper to get on the stove and my own life to return to.”

“Thank you for your time, Healer Malfoy,” Martin said as he helped Harry to his feet. “Is there a safe place where we can Disapparate?”

“You can Disapparate from the lobby of my office. Good evening, Aurors.” Draco waited until he heard the telltale _pop_ to exhale. Damn it all, why did Potter still have to be so bloody attractive?

~~~

“Potter, calm down!” Martin insisted.

“The hell I will. He is in that neighborhood practicing without a license. He is risking people’s lives!”

“Really? Because I seem to remember that he saved yours.”

“If he’s such a great mediwizard, then why isn’t he licensed?”

“Former Death Eaters have a hard time readjusting-“

“Let me ask you a question; don’t you think that it’s the least bit convenient that Draco Malfoy, trained mediwizard and potions prodigy, just _happened_ to be in a dodgy part of London when we were there for an illegal potions deal?” Before Martin could counter, Harry continued. “And that he just _happened_ to know the counter-curse?”

“And that he just _happened_ to Save. Your. Life. Potter, do you remember when you were first assigned here and you thought that you’d be partnered with one of your friends from Auror training?”

Harry scowled and nodded.

“And do you remember that you were partnered with me, someone you’d never met before?”

Again, Harry nodded.

“What you missed was that two minutes before you walked into then-Head Auror Shacklebolt’s office; he warned me that you can be a bit of a pigheaded pit bull. Now, so far in your career that has come in rather handy, and so I haven’t really thought I should bring up that particular conversation. However, right here, right now, Potter, you are off the mark.”

“I’m going to bring him in.” Harry brushed passed his partner and strode out the door.

“Pigheaded pit bull,” Martin said with a nod.

~~~

Nurse Mayweather was finishing up a bit of filing to the sounds of Celestina Warbeck, swaying her body slowly to the melodic tunes coming out of the wireless. There were no patients due in for the rest of the afternoon, Healer Malfoy was in his office finishing up some notes – or at least pretending to – and the fire crackled merrily in the hearth, wafting out the spicy scents of the tea she kept going all day. It was, all things told, a rather wonderful afternoon.

Or it was until the door in the lobby was opened with a loud bang that startled her; she went rushing out from the files room, assuming she was going to see one of the Healer’s expectant parents, but instead she saw the tightly-woven grey of an Auror robe.

Her breath caught when she recognized him for who he was. Her sister was never going to believe that she’d been standing this close to The Harry Potter.

“Where’s Malfoy?” he demanded.

She gathered her wits about her; one didn’t work as nurse for Healer Malfoy without being made of rather stern stuff. “I’m afraid he’s behind closed doors at the moment. Might I ask who’s calling?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Auror squad.”

Nurse Mayweather looked behind Harry to see the empty atrium. “So… just the one of you lot is a squad as well? I’d always rather assumed that was the plural.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. “Look here-“

“What’s going on out here?” a familiar, cool voice demanded. “I do hope that the Aurors haven’t taken on breaking and entering.”

“Cut the troll shit, Malfoy. Business license. Spot check.”

“Oh, dear. Whatever shall I do?” Draco sneered sarcastically. “I don’t seem to have it on hand.”

“You know that I can arrest you for that, right?”

“Can you now? And the usual Auror has been so happy with a quick check-up and a thorough blow job. Deary, deary me, whatever shall become of me.”

Anger flashed through Harry’s veins, and a small wind breezed through the lobby.

“Nurse, hold my calls; apparently I’m under arrest. Take a half day. I’ll see you in the morning.” Draco pulled his outer robe off the coat rack next to the check in desk and was just about to throw it around his shoulders when there was a _crack_ of Apparition.

“See, I told you I wouldn’t splinch us. Just keep breathing, Darling. I’ll get the Healer. Oh, hello.” The couple who was entering stopped short when faced with the tableau before them.

Harry’s attention was diverted for just a moment, and shock raced through him when he saw who was standing there.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, you’re frightfully early,” Draco said, dropping his robe where he stood and rushing to Fleur Weasley’s side. “Nurse, set up the birthing suite; looks like there’s no half day today. Mrs. Weasley, I do hope you don’t mind if a close friend of the family is here to witness the birth; it seems as though Auror Potter is here to arrest me. Let’s get your baby out first, though shall we?”

Fleur shot a confused glance at Harry, but before she could say anything, her body was wracked with another contraction. “Eet is too early!” she cried.

“Come now, Mrs. Weasley, there is nothing to worry about. We knew that this might happen. And at thirty-six weeks I’d say you’re doing just fine. Come on back now.” He was gentle with Fleur as he led her back to the exam rooms, one of which was apparently a birthing suite.

Bill came to Harry quickly, but he kept throwing quick, furtive glances towards his wife. “He’s not serious, is he, Harry?”

“Bill, Malfoy isn’t a proper Healer. You need to get Fleur to St. Mungo’s; you need to take her to a proper Healer and a proper midwife. You can’t trust-“

“Who I can’t trust is St. Mungo’s,” Bill interrupted. He heaved a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair as he so often did when he was worried sick. “You know how they are there, Harry, for those of us not entirely human.”

“What are you talking about?”

Just then Fleur’s cries carried from the other room. “Look, I’m going to get in there and help Fleur through this; you stay here. We’ll talk after, yeah?”

“Bill, you can’t seriously think-“

“Harry!” Bill shouted at him. “My wife is in premature labor! Malfoy is the only reason we didn’t lose this baby months ago, and right now he’s in there bringing _my child_ into the world. You want to debate, that’s fine, but hold it. Have a cuppa, sit down, shut up, and I’ll talk to you later.” With that, Bill turned and dashed back behind the door where Malfoy had taken Fleur.

Harry wasn’t quite sure what to make of the situation now. He had never expected that someone like Bill Weasley - someone Harry knew, someone he spent his spare time with, someone he considered family, someone who had the better part of his family working in the Ministry - to bring his wife to a back alley, off-the-grid Healer. And that that Healer just happened to be Draco Malfoy… Harry didn’t know what to think.

He sat in the lobby of Malfoy’s little illegal business for two and a half hours. In the heat rolling off the fireplace, he started to sweat, and he got up and hung up his heavy Auror’s over-robe; underneath he was in unrelieved black, a button-down top, slacks and boots. He rolled up his sleeves and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He was questioning everything in a way he hated, in a way he never wanted to. Harry liked flying by the seat of his pants, he liked making snap decisions, and he liked going with his gut instinct. His gut instinct had done him well so far, under some incredibly slim odds.

Seven years ago, after the war, during the Death Eater trials, Harry had been called to testify many times. There had been very few people for whom he’d given anything other than _toss him in Azkaban; he’s a Death Eater_. Two of those four had made his life a living hell for seven years: Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy. While nothing could be done for Snape other than a posthumous Order of Merlin, Harry had gotten to see Draco Malfoy walk out of the Ministry a free man.

Harry had waited two days before he bought a bottle of Firewhiskey and knocked on Draco’s door.

Two days had been enough for Malfoy to disappear into the ether.

So Harry had drunk the contents of the bottle himself, passed out alone in his own bed and called on Ginny the next morning while still more than half hung-over. Martin was right; she’d been smart to dump him when she had. Even though no one had ever known that Harry had gone to Malfoy that night, or what Harry’s true intentions had been; and even though Harry never again stepped so much as a toe out of line, and he had never again let himself think about another man the way he had thought of Draco; he knew he would have been an idiot to try to be married to Ginny.

And now, all of these years later, there was Malfoy again. Still tall with ridiculously soft-looking blond hair and a scowl that Harry wanted to kiss away. Not that he’d ever admit that, even to himself. And once again Malfoy was surrounded in an air of suspicion.

There was a cry of pain from the other room, muffled from privacy charms, Harry turned with his wand in hand but stopped short when he heard an indignant wail of a newborn child. Bill and Fleur’s child had just been born. Brought into the world by Draco Malfoy.

A few minutes later, Bill came out, a huge smile on his scarred face and a bundle of blankets in his arms. “Harry, I’d like you to meet Adrianne.”

Harry smiled down at the red, scrunchy face surrounded by thick white blankets and wondered briefly why she looked so much like Winston Churchill. He realized Bill was waiting for some sort of response. “She’s…er… beautiful.”

“Isn’t she just amazing?” He was awestruck looking down at the face of his newborn baby girl. He rocked her so easily that Harry was struck with just how much Bill would have had to do in the early care of the twins and Ron and Ginny; this was clearly not the first baby he’d held. “She’s our third.”

“Bill… she’s your first,” Harry corrected. He would have known if there had been others.

“She’s the first who made it, yes.” He looked at Harry with a fierce look. “You ever wonder why it is Andromeda always has _you_ take Teddy to the Healers?”

“She said that there are times when a boy doesn’t want his Gran in the room when he’s talking to Healers. What does that have to do-“

“She’s lying, Harry. Teddy’s dad was a werewolf. She’s worried, scared that they’ll do something to him.” Bill took a deep breath and continued. “Fleur found out she was pregnant two months after we were married. The war was still going on, and we were worried; what if that war went on as many years as the first? Then I realized that I’d been born during the first war and so had all of my brothers – only Ginny was born after you banished You Know Who the first time. So what was the big deal? The best way to fight was to go on living our lives; that’s what Dumbledore and Moony said. So we went to St. Mungo’s. Later that night, Fleur lost the baby. The Healers told us it was because of the wolf in my blood and the Veela in hers. They told us never to expect to have children. It was about a year later when she came to me again and said we were expecting. We went to the Healer later that week. And we lost that baby too. Also within twenty-four hours. However, that time, Fleur got sick. Really sick. And we were told that if we tried to have another baby, it would kill her.”

“I didn’t know any of this,” Harry said, his voice rough. “I’m so sorry.”

Bill nodded and shifted his tiny daughter so that her head was on his shoulder. “When Fleur came to me earlier this year and told me she was pregnant again, I was at work… and… fuck I was scared. I had to step away from work for a minute. And when I did, Garrok – he’s one of the goblins in the Cursed Objects Division – came over and told me that rather than going to St. Mungo’s, we should go to a different Healer, one who doesn’t care about mixed breeds. So right after work I brought Fleur here. And I was shocked to see that the Healer who didn’t care about mixed breed children was none other than former-Death-Eater Draco Malfoy. Not exactly the pure-blood party line, you know? But… what did we have to lose?”

“And clearly, he was able help you out,” Harry said. “But he’s still working without a license. And he’s in violation-“

“If he had a license, Harry, then my little girl here wouldn’t exist.”

“I understand that he’s a good Healer, Bill, but that’s not an excuse for breaking the law.”

“Neither is being licensed and bonded and what-have-you an excuse for forcing abortions on unsuspecting women and then sterilizing them over time simply because they aren’t fully human.”

“They… wait… they _what_?” Harry felt like he’d been slapped.

“Bill,” Malfoy said from the doorway, “you should get back in there. The sooner the little one eats, the better they’ll both do.” He came into the room with a careless gait. “I’ll fill Potter in on the gruesome details.” He waited until Bill had gone back into the suite. “He’s not wrong.”

“But… how… people would _know_. I’m an Auror; I would know.”

“You’re human. And on top of that, you’re the bloody Boy Who Lived, Savior of Our Times and whatever other drivel the _Prophet_ has come up with this week.”

“But… I take Teddy to the Healers all the time. Nothing’s ever gone wrong with him.”

“You’re not seriously that thick. Please tell me that is all an act.”

“How is that thick?” Harry questioned. “His father was a werewolf, and they don’t do anything bad to him.”

“Because _you’re there_. Of course they’re not going to do anything with you in the room; you’re an Auror and you’re Harry bloody Potter! That’s why _you_ take him!”

“You don’t know that!”

“You want to know what I do know, Potter? I know that I see a dozen patients a day - not one of them fully human and a few totally non-human - and every single one of them knows that if they go to St. Mungo’s they will be dead within a week. There are a couple others like me in the city, from what I’ve heard, but I don’t know who they are or where they practice, so don’t ask. There’s a goblin specialist for Gringotts; though that might be an actual _goblin_ and not just a Healer who specializes. No non-humans go to St. Mungo’s.”

“If that’s true, then there would have been a report. Things like that are brought to the Aurors.”

“Oh deary, deary me, but that might mean that someone in the Ministry is covering this up. Whatever shall we do? They have been such a paragon of virtue throughout history. A bright, shining beacon-“

“I get it!” Harry stood up and paced from one end of the lobby to the other. “Why didn’t they ever talk to me?” he said at last.

“Dear Merlin, does your savior complex know no bounds?”

“Teddy is my godson, and he’s with me three days out of every week, Bill and Fleur are like family to me, so why didn’t they ever come to me? Talk to me?”

“You’re a member of the Ministry.”

“I’m a member of their family! Family trumps job.”

Draco paused for a moment as something warm and unexpected flooded through him. “Well… perhaps they were, in some misguided, Griffindorish way, trying to protect you.”

Harry didn’t stop pacing. “Have to keep it small.”

“Keep what small?”

“The investigation, Malfoy; what did you think I was talking about?”

“Potter, an investigation?”

“Yes, an investigation. There are murders taking place, and I’m an Auror.”

“You seriously think it’s just that simple, don’t you?”

“Small investigation, behind the scenes work. I’ll keep up with my other cases… I can do it.”

“So, let me see if I have this right: you came down here tonight to arrest me for gods only know what, full of indignant rage and righteous fury. Then, a few hours later, you’re going to return to the Ministry, suspiciously without your man, and start sticking your nose into their dirtiest little secret. Potter, I’ve been stalked by you, and you’re balls at it.”

“How long can you lay low?”

Draco looked around the small lobby. “Until I made the questionable decision to save your arse the other night, no one had seen me in seven years - two of which I’ve been right here. I won’t abandon my patients, Potter; you can’t ask me to.”

“I wouldn’t. Just keep quiet, and keep your head down. I’ll tell them you closed up shop and moved on. Can you make it look like that?”

“Have you seen my front door? It’s boarded up, banged, dented and hasn’t been painted in a few hundred years. There’s also a subtle Notice-Me-Not charm on it. How much more do you want me to do?”

“You could up the wards on the place.”

“Anything stronger will be like a beacon to your coworkers. Go, try your little subterfuge, and when it doesn’t work…” Draco gave a sly smile. “I’ll just have to tell them I was able to tempt you with the same deal I had with my last Auror. Actually, I have a few moments. I would hate to force you to lie.”

Harry felt himself blush quickly as he remembered Draco’s explanation for how the last Auror was… handled. “You should go check on your patients.”

Draco smiled and gave a deep, throaty chuckle, but he turned and walked back towards the exam room.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed his outer robe from the tree before striding out of the office.

***

Two weeks later and Harry had the world’s tiniest suspect list. Nothing about this case was adding up. He’d tried to work this from several different angles, but nothing would shake loose; he just didn’t have _anything_ to go on. Wednesday morning he was supposed to take Teddy to St. Mungo’s for his yearly checkup, and he had no idea what to do. On the one hand, he was the one who always took Teddy and so far they’d been safe. On the other hand, they’d only been safe _so far_ , and while Harry was willing to push his own luck, he was simply not willing to push Teddy’s. Still another argument was that if he were to stop taking Teddy to St. Mungo’s, whoever was behind these crimes might know they were being looked at.

He went to Andromeda’s house early on Wednesday and pulled her into the kitchen. “Do you have me take Teddy because of what’s been happening with non-humans at St. Mungo’s?” he said without preamble.

Andromeda looked shocked for just a second, her heavy lids rising momentarily in surprise. “The Ministry is finally investigating?”

“Not officially,” Harry said honestly. “Why didn’t you talk to me, Dromeda? Why didn’t you come to me about this?”

She sighed and pushed the steel-grey curtain of her hair back behind her shoulder. “I suppose I was scared. He’s all I have, Harry. I knew that if you were there with him, that he would be safe. And if I didn’t send him to Healers… I learned with my Dora that metamorphmagi children can have some serious health problems. I couldn’t not send him to the Healers.”

Harry understood. It also didn’t help him at all. He finally laid out his conundrum for Andromeda. “So what do I do? Do I take him? Or do I do what my gut is saying and take him as far from that place as I can?”

Andromeda smiled and ran a long-fingered hand down Harry’s cheek. “My daughter and son-in-law made such a good choice,” she said as she teared up. “I knew that, of course, but sometimes, like just now, I can see how much you love him.”

“That does not help my problem.”

She sighed heavily. “It goes against every instinct I have to say this, Harry. But I want you to take him to St. Mungo’s. Keep an eye on him the whole time, and then, when you’re done there, I want you to take him to his cousin. And trust me, Harry, had I known that my sister’s child was an option, Teddy would have been going there his whole life.”

“Even though he was a Death Eater?” Harry said, a challenge in his voice.

She waved a dismissive hand. “You want to talk about a Death Eater, you look at Bella. That bitch was my _sister_ , and she murdered my child. I come from a family who were so indoctrinated in the pure-blood propaganda that they were among the first to line up to get that damned mark on their arm. Draco was a child. He was a child, and his family was threatened. And honestly, from what you say, he didn’t actually do anything. I think that under the circumstances, he should be called a hero.” She walked over to the cupboard and pulled out her cloak. “Now, if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to go tell Cissa just that.”

“Careful what you say in there,” Harry warned.

“Please, Harry, I am one of the Black daughters.”

Just then Teddy came tearing into the room, a bundle of energy and electric blue hair.

“Teddy, give your Gran a kiss,” Andromeda said. “You’re with Harry tonight, so take your classwork.”

“Yes, Gran,” Teddy said. He gave her a hug and a kiss. “Um, Gran?”

Andromeda visibly braced herself. “Yes, love?”

“It’s just… Billy has a toad and I think that I should have a toad because toads are really cool and I saw a bright green one, like this-“ He shook his head and his hair turned a shockingly green color with obnoxious yellow strands threaded throughout. “- and it was really cool and I want it.”

Andromeda took a deep breath. “How old are you, dear?”

“Seven and a half.”

“And how old did I tell you you had to be to have a pet?”

“Nine but-“

“No. You may get a pet when you are nine. We will not discuss it before then.”

Harry stayed quiet; he didn’t think that the rule was fair, but then, he hadn’t had a pet until he was eleven.

“But, Gran!”

“No, Teddy. Have fun with Harry tonight.” She shot Harry a small, apologetic smile and turned to leave. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Teddy turned on him in a flash. “What about at your place? Could I get a toad at your place? Gran wouldn’t even have to know, and I could keep it there and-“

“No, mate, I’m sorry.”

“But it would be a secret toad. It would be so cool!”

“Teddy, your Gran said no. And besides that, neither of us are at my flat often enough. The poor thing would die alone and bored. And then what? It would be a dead secret toad. And you don’t want that. And Merlin knows I don’t want the smell of a dead secret toad in my flat. Now, go get your shoes and book bag; we have an appointment at the Healers’.”

Teddy turned and stomped up the stairs.

“Maybe I should let them poison him,” Harry mused with a playful grin on his face.

~~~

Draco loved his work, but he also found it exhausting. His caseload was insane; no so-called proper Healer at St. Mungo’s would ever consider seeing twenty-three patients in a day, but Draco didn’t have a choice. His patients didn’t have any other option, so he found himself, yet again, eating lunch at his desk, grilled sandwich in one hand, quill in the other, as he wrote up his patient notes.

That’s where he was when the door crashed open, and Harry Potter barged into his office, carrying a child with mouse-brown hair.

“Malfoy, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know were else to go.”

“Potter, calm down, what’s happened?”

“It’s Teddy. I took him to St. Mungo’s. I didn’t want to, but Dromeda said that he’d been alright when I took him before; she thought that he’d be alright this time, too, but… I don’t even know what happened.” Harry was panting and ranting, but he handed Teddy over to Draco and then followed them to one of the exam rooms. “I was right there the whole time! I never took my eyes off him! I thought he was fine. He was mad at me, but he was _fine_. Then, we got back to my flat and he was flushed, and his hair went brown – it always does when he’s feeling poorly – and I checked, and he had a fever, and then…. He just collapsed. I didn’t know what else to do; I didn’t know where else I could take him. Please tell me you can help him.”

Draco was rattling off diagnostic spells as quickly as he could. He actually would have agreed with his Aunt Andromeda. Teddy should have been completely safe with Harry there. “Did they give him anything?”

“No. They ran some tests, he’s a metamorphmagus. They keep a close eye on him, to make sure he’s not overtaxing his magic.”

“Not bloody likely,” Draco muttered. And then he smiled. “Found it.”

“What is-“

“Potter, shut up. This is some of the most complicated spellwork I’ve ever seen.” He wove his wand over Teddy’s unconscious form.

“They didn’t do anything out of the ordinary,” Harry insisted.

“No, I can see that. They’ve been doing this for a long time now.”

“What?”

“They found a way to curse him over time, just a small piece of spellwork put on him every time he goes in. It’s genius. Terrible, but… brilliant.”

“They are _killing_ my godson!”

“Yes, and my cousin, one of the few relatives I still have breathing,” Draco said without looking up. “But the complexity of this curse is…”

“Is what, Malfoy? Tell me what a Death Eater thinks about killing children.” He heard the venom in his own voice, but couldn’t be bothered to apologize.

“I can tell you this: whoever created this curse is working on a big picture that I’ve never seen on my end.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m usually seeing those like the Weasleys, forced sterilization and abortive curses. It’s a short game. Something meant to end interspecies breeding within a decade. But someone willing to see a child as often as an untrained metamorphmagus needs to be seen… This person has no conscience. Probably male. No children, but not for lack of trying. This man was not a Death Eater. He believed in what the Dark Lord was doing, but he never joined; either because he wasn’t seen as useful at the time or because he found the idea of working with the werewolves to be repugnant; either is likely.”

“You’re able to profile off of a curse?”

“Coupled with the manner in which it’s been applied, yes. Severus taught me. Told me it would save my life one day.”

“And did it?”

“It’s saving Teddy’s; that’s close enough.” There was a knot of concentration between Draco's small brows as he pulled at the curse, working at it like he was pulling apart a spider web with his fingers, carefully and gently.

Harry watched in rapt fascination. Draco's wrist caught his attention and he became transfixed for a moment. The flesh and the ligaments and the hint of blue veins it shouldn’t have been sexy, and yet it turned Harry on more than he could admit.

Soon Teddy coughed once hard and then he came to. “I don’t feel well,” he said in a small voice.

Harry stroked the still-brown hair and looked into soft grey eyes. “I know you don’t, Teddy. Healer Malfoy here is making you all better. You’re safe. I’m right here with you. Why don’t you close your eyes and let Healer Malfoy finish.”

Teddy nodded and closed his eyes.

Just as Teddy’s breathing turned even, Draco relaxed just a bit. “I got it.”

“Oh, thank god,” Harry sighed in relief.

For a moment Draco looked at Harry, sitting beside this small stranger who was one of the few relatives Draco had left. Potter was petting Teddy’s hair with tears just swimming in his eyes, and Draco was hit by his attraction for Potter like a kick in the gut. He cleared his throat and looked away. “I have other patients who need me. I’ll check back.”

Harry looked up at him then, his clear green, too-bright eyes wide open and unguarded. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Draco's heart tripped. “Call for me or Nurse Mayweather if you need anything.” He beat a hasty retreat.

~~~

 

Draco was working in his private potions lab, trying to come up with a new digestive aid for Mardok, when there was a light knock at his door. He put on a stasis charm, hung up his lab cloak and answered the door. “Potter? What are you doing here? How did you know where I live?”

Harry looked at Draco, who was wearing black trousers and a grey silk shirt, an expensive dragon skin belt between the two, and felt that kick of attraction all over again. “Er… the night I was attacked, you were carrying groceries within a block of the clinic – Martin saw in the bag. I assumed you lived above your clinic. I was right.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was working at home and I was reshuffling the evidence, and I just can’t wrap my head around it.” He pushed passed Draco and into the apartment. He took half a second to see that the apartment was tidy and minimalistic. “It’s bigger than just Teddy’s Healer. The best I can figure it, there are at least three wards of St. Mungo’s involved in this conspiracy. I don’t know yet if it’s in Creature-Induced Injuries, too, because everything that I hit there is a dead end. But then is that only because they’re better at covering it up? Wouldn’t they get the most interspecies traffic?”

“Not really, no. Someone bitten by a werewolf would go there, certainly, but werewolf bites are few and far between. Someone bitten by a vampire wouldn’t go to St. Mungo’s at all unless it was an accidental biting by a very weak vampire who couldn’t cast a proper thrall to take the memory away. No, they mostly deal with injuries induced by the non-sentient magical creatures.”

“Where do the sentient non-humans go?”

“Mostly they look after themselves. They would have their own Healers and their own way of handling injuries. That’s why Healers like me are rather fumbling in the dark, aren’t we? We only know half of the biology. So we ask the parents, but when the parent is the human… It’s frustrating.” Draco waved at the closet, and his favored tea set came out and started serving itself.

“Accidental Magical Mishaps, Potion and Plant Poisoning, and General Healing – which is where they do the day-to-day stuff as well as obstetrics.”

“Thank you, Potter, but I am well aware of what Healers do.”

“Right. Sorry. Why those three?”

“If a child is born who is unaware of their non-human lineage-“

“Does that happen? Wouldn’t they know?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Interspecies dating is not accepted in this country. Add into that the fact that rape does happen both by humans and non humans; not to mention that the illegal potions trade is on the rise, and when under the influence, all sorts of odd couplings occur with no memory of the event afterwards. It happens more than people would like to think. In the instances that a child is conceived, if the mother never mentions that the child isn’t completely human, and the child comes out human-looking enough to pass, then at some point the other parent’s abilities make themselves known. At first it’s just thought to be the usual child’s magical incidents. The Accidental Magical Mishaps Ward would be the first to spot a child with a mixed heritage.

“As for Potions and Plant Poisoning,” Draco continued, “if the mixed heritage were not to show as accidental magic, then it would most certainly show up as a reaction to some simple potion; in some cases the child might have a craving for something that is poisonous to a full-blood-human, and then the parent would rush them to St. Mungo’s for poisoning.

“General Healing speaks for itself with what happened to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and countless other parents of mixed heritage.”

Harry took a sip of tea, wishing for Firewhiskey. “So, in the Healers’ hierarchy, who would have access to all of those wards?”

“Poisoning and Accidental Magic, those can be closed off, and General is just that – general. Everyone and their brother can get in and out of every room except for the infant room and the potions’ cupboard. But the other two, you’re talking about the Healers and their apprentices, the nurses, the janitorial staff, visitors of patients – depending on infectiousness thereof. Administration would be able to get in and out as well so long as they don’t step on the Healer’s toes.”

“And these are the _secure_ wards?”

“A hospital the size of St. Mungo’s employs probably a thousand witches and wizards. Did you think they all worked in the gifts shop?”

“In your profile from the curse, would that be a junior staff member or someone higher up the ladder?”

Draco sighed at that and crossed his bare ankles up on his coffee table. “Hard to say, honestly. On the one hand, if there’s a subordinate available, then the mastermind would most certainly use them to avoid getting his own hands dirty. On the other hand… honestly, I prefer this not to be a conspiracy of that magnitude.”

“There are at least two,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Probably five or six. And the mastermind will be of mixed heritage but passing as fully human. Do you have any names in common on your patient files? Any Healer in common or maybe a shift?”

Draco uncrossed his ankles, got up and walked to a bookcase. He pulled down a leather-bound tome that Harry didn’t recognize and pulled out a piece of parchment. “It’s nothing concrete. It’s certainly not evidence, by any stretch of the imagination. But these are the names that came up most often.”

Harry looked down at the neatly-penned list. He recognized a name. “This nurse here, Abercrombie, how often did her name come up?”

“She was on quite a few,” Draco said. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say she was on thirty percent of the charts of patients who were able to name names at St. Mungo’s.”

“She’s Teddy’s nurse.”

“Not a coincidence, I’m sure. How are you going to handle this? You can’t just go off with a partially-thought-out plan and a lot of Gryffindor bluster.”

“I don’t bluster.”

“You’ve never been able to plan. You’re working with a Slytherin this time, Potter. Use me.”

“Beg pardon?”

“I’m a resource you have. You should use your resources.”

Harry’s mind flashed him a quick series of erotic images on just how he’d like to use Draco. Not one of them involved the case.

“Come by tomorrow for tea since the clinic closes at four, and we can brainstorm. For now, I think you should get home to Teddy.”

“We had a row this morning,” Harry blurted as he stepped back to the door.

“About what?”

“A secret toad of all the nonsense possible. And I thought, for just a second… I was arsed off, and he’d slammed his door at me and-“

“Potter, you didn’t do this. You’re helping to raise a child, and I cannot imagine that is a simple feat. I’m sure that was not the first slammed door, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Don’t be so bloody hard on yourself. He adores you; it’s simple enough to see. As is the fact that you adore him back. Don’t be a martyr over this.”

Draco was right there, so close after so long, and he was saying all the right things, all the things Harry needed to hear. Harry didn’t even think about it. He just reached out, laid his palm on Draco's cheek, leaned in and kissed him.

It was heaven. For a moment it was everything Harry wanted, right there for the taking. Draco's lips were soft and pliant and tasted faintly of raspberries; and that fine blond hair was just as soft as Harry had imagined when he ran his hand up into it.

Then Malfoy’s hands were on his shoulders and his lips were moving, inviting Harry in as they parted to his questing tongue. He wrapped his arms around Malfoy’s lithe frame and thrilled at how well they fit together. It was everything he had ever hoped it would be to have Draco Malfoy in his arms.

One of them, Harry wasn’t sure which, moaned and it was like there was a blast of heat in the room and all he wanted was more.

And then he was being pushed roughly out the door. “Good night, Potter.” The door was slammed in his face.

~~~

The next afternoon, after filling Andromeda in on what had happened and dropping Teddy back off with her with instructions to never take him back to St. Mungo’s, Harry went back over to Malfoy’s flat.

Before he had a chance to knock, the door was thrown open, and a furious Malfoy was on the other side. He was in full wizard’s robes, not a hair out of place nor a button that didn’t appear welded in place. “You are here to work, and you will maintain your distance.”

“A simple ‘not interested’ would suffice. Are you going to punch me if I come in?”

“Quite possibly. But that isn’t any more likely than it is any other time. You irritate me, always have.” Draco pushed indignantly at his hair.

Harry smiled. “I know I do.”

“Stop it! If you intend to flirt, then you can just forget coming in here.”

“Face it, Malfoy, we’ve always flirted. But I shall try to contain myself.”

“You better do.” He moved out of the way.

“Honestly, I never took you for a prude.”

“I’m not a prude,” Malfoy argued.

“You weren’t when we started out last night. And then it was like someone flipped the uptight switch.”

“You assaulted me.”

“I kissed you. And you kissed me back. And then you pushed me out the door. Had I been a few inches closer, you could have done some serious damage with that slamming door.” He subconsciously adjusted himself inside his trousers as he remembered the close call from the night before.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter.”

“I thought that we-“

“I said no flirting. Working. Not flirting.”

“You don’t want to mix business and pleasure, I get it. So after the case then, I plan on coming back here and kissing you again. And then I plan on taking you to bed.”

“One – if that’s what Gryffindors use for a pickup line, I’m surprised the lot of you didn’t die off a thousand years ago. Two – after this case, you are never going to see me again.”

“We’ll see about that.”

They got to work with the employee records from St. Mungo’s and the half-blacked-out patient records that Draco had let Harry see. They worked through tea and ordered Thai for dinner. They worked until they had to turn on the lights and their eyes were burning from exhaustion. Draco was going through the photos of St. Mungo’s administrators, looking for anyone who, in his expert opinion, was only passing as human. Harry was looking for links between the two sets of files. Or he was until he finally succumbed to his exhaustion and fell asleep on Draco's sofa.

“Potter? Potter, wake up. I think I found it.” Draco reached out and squeezed a hand, unthinkingly, on Harry’s thigh.

“Up and a little to the left,” Harry said, his voice thick with sleep.

“I think I found it.” He shoved a picture in Harry’s face. “Healer Chase. Healer-in-Charge Chase.”

Harry straightened his glasses and got a good look at the photo. The man was stern-looking with dark eyes and dark features; he had a thick neck and wide shoulders and a cleft in his chin. “Not someone I’d want to meet up with in a dark alley, but what makes you so sure this is the guy?”

“You said that you thought that he was of mixed heritage. And I think that that fits with the profile. This man, Healer-in-Charge Chase, has physical markers indicative of orcism.”

“Of what now?”

“Orcism, the physical attributes of the magical beings orcs. He has human skin, in that it’s neither green nor grey, but the musculature here along his neck… his file doesn’t list that he has a gym membership. I bet if I were to look back into his medical history, I would find that he’s never been treated for a sports injury. He’s built like this naturally. This thick neck, the slight brow ridge that looks like a scowl, add in the more-than-slightly pointed bite… this is orcism. There’s no way he is fully human. Now look at this.” Draco handed Harry the file.

“Early on he had a lot of citations for anger problems,” Harry paraphrased from the file. “Then he was sent to Magical Mishaps and worked under a Healer Prentice – who retired six months later. He was promoted and never again had another citation. Hand me Nurse Davis’ file, please.”

Draco dug through the files until he found it and handed it to Potter.

“I was right; the timing matches up. She was also assigned at the same time as Chase. She followed him as he was promoted from ward to ward. Sweet Merlin’s saggy pants, this is it!” Harry grabbed the front of those tightly-buttoned robes, pulled Draco to him and kissed him soundly. “You’re brilliant! If you hadn’t been able to spot the orc… ness in Healer Chase, we wouldn’t have this.”

Draco stared at Harry and nodded mutely, staring at Harry’s mouth.

“I just need to find a concrete reason to pull him in for interview, and then we can – _mmfmrmf_ ” Harry found himself being pushed back against the arm of the couch, Draco kissing him desperately and climbing on top of him. Harry managed to find the table and put the files down as he wrapped his arms around Draco and kissed him back, hard and hungrily.

Draco had snapped; he’d been wanting Harry so long, denying himself so long, and then Harry was right there every time he turned around, and he just… snapped and took what he wanted. And it was amazing. Harry fit under him, chests pushing together, Harry’s hips riding just a little higher than Draco's own so their growing erections pushed together perfectly. Harry’s hands were on him, roaming over him, but he could barely feel them through the layers of heavy fabric. He sat up, straddled across Harry’s lap and both of them reached for his buttons and started working furiously.

“Arms up,” Harry said when he had the first six buttons undone. He pulled the robe up and off of Draco, only to find another shirt underneath. “How many layers are you wearing?”

Draco didn’t say anything, just leaned back down and ravaged Harry’s mouth again before moving onto his neck to lick and bite and suck, his fingers working on the buttons of Harry’s shirt.

“Wait a second,” Harry said when he realized that Draco wasn’t stopping. “Draco, Draco, wait, hold on.”

“Potter, shut up. You are three minutes from orgasmic bliss, so shut up and kiss me.”

“I just… I want this to be good for you and not over in two seconds.”

“I don’t care, so long as they’re two good seconds.”

“I’ve never done this before,” Harry blurted.

Draco stopped and sat up. “There is no way that Harry Bloody Potter is a virgin.”

“I didn’t say that. But I’ve never been with a man before.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You’re telling me this now? Why? Why couldn’t you just lie there and shut up and shag like a normal person?” He got up and walked to a small chest that was apparently a bar in hiding. He pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey and a pack of cigarettes.

“I didn’t know you smoke.”

“Picked it up in Paris. Everyone smokes there. How is it possible? You’ve got to have every queer in the kingdom chasing your Golden Boy prick.”

“I spent a lot of my time convincing myself that I didn’t want men, that I wasn’t gay. Kept trying to make myself into what I thought everyone else wanted. The perfect Auror. The perfect boyfriend to Ginny. The perfect best friend to Ron and Hermione. The perfect godfather to Teddy. It was killing me, but it was all I could think to do. And… there wasn’t anyone I wanted enough to… to come out… to take that last step.”

“And you what? You figure that I’m under the radar?” He waved his hand, and the cigarette he was taking to his lips was lit; he took a frustrated drag. “You think that because my life is some dirty little secret that I won’t mind being yours? Go to hell, Potter.”

“That’s not what I said! That’s not what I meant!”

“Get out. This was a mistake. Just… just go.”

“Malfoy, listen, that’s not-“

“I said get out. I had a moment of weakness. I should know better. This was a mistake. Now pick up the files and get out of my home.” Draco turned to face the window, turned his back on Harry and left Harry with no option but to do as he was asked.

~~~

“Why are you banging your head this time?” Martin asked without looking up from his reports.

“I am an utter bastard, that’s why,” Harry muttered into the wood.

“Did you have sex with someone and not call them? Because, I keep telling you, that’s not the worst thing that could happen. I know that you don’t often have sex –“

“Please stop talking.”

“No, I mean, even if you get into the really kinky stuff-“

“Stop talking.”

“There was this one bird I was with, she had a thing for pink feathers and vanilla flavored body oil, and we went back to her place-“

“Martin, shut up!”

“Then tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Dear gods help us, Harry Potter is dating. Tell me about her.”

“Who?”

“The bint who’s got you in a twist, Potter. Tell me about her.”

Harry’s heart squeezed for a moment; he took a deep breath, made a decision and jumped in with all of his Gryffindor courage. “You have the wrong pronoun.”

Martin actually stopped looking over the reports and turned his stunned attention to Harry. “You’re bent?”

Harry nodded.

“Damn it!”

“This shouldn’t be a problem, Martin.”

“Not a problem? How could this not be a problem?”

Harry stood up, full of indignant rage. “You’re a right bastard, you know that?! I’ve been your partner for four _years_ -“

“And you’ve just cost me three galleons!” Martin yelled back.

“And I … what?”

“Pricilla bet me three galleons that you’re bent the same night she met you.”

“You’ve known for four years?”

“No. I’ve been denying for four years. Mind you, when you and Ginny finally called it quits, I wondered a few times, but you stayed single, and I figured you were going to go married-to-the-job.” There was a deep sigh. “You’re paying the three galleons, just so we’re clear.”

“I’m doing no such thing.”

“Sure you are. Now, tell me what’s wrong. I will go back to doing my reports and pretending to care.” He did indeed pick his quill back up and turn the majority of his attention to the file in front of him.

“I thought things were going really well. But he keeps kicking me out of his flat.”

“Is… that a euphemism?”

“What? Ew, no! Why would you think I would tell you anything about my sex life?”

“You have one?”

“NO! And that’s the problem! He gives me the signals, and then when I move in, he kicks me out – not a euphemism! – and then _he_ makes the first move, and I go with it, and once again, he kicks me out – still not a euphemism. I tried to be honest. Apparently, I talk too much.”

“I’ve been telling you that for years.”

“So I sit here and I bang my head on my desk because I am left with no other option.”

“And what about that other case you’ve been working? How’s that going?”

Harry’s head shot up off the desk. “What? What are you talking about?”

“The side job you have. Harry, there’s a reason you did not do well in stealth; if it hadn’t been for the tracking portion of the class, you would have washed out of Auror training.”

“Pfft,” Harry scoffed. “There was no chance I was worse than Tonks.”

“That’s true. Still, you are about as subtle as a brick.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Please, you go out like gangbusters after Malfoy and come back empty-handed, and you just don’t care? You expect me to believe that? I’m not new, Potter. I know you. And then you start leaving on time and disappearing and- Wait… is he the bloke you’re seeing?”

Harry tried to come up with something quickly.

“Oh, sweet Merlin, he _is_! HA! You’re bent for Draco Malfoy. That’s just priceless.”

“Would you keep your voice down?”

“What did he drag you into? If it’s about the illegal potions, then I should be in on this since that’s my case, too.”

“It’s… it’s not about the potions.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“I can’t really tell you.”

“Potter, there’s a reason Aurors have partners. You need someone to watch your back.”

“Teddy got sick.”

“Oh. That’s terrible. I’m sorry. And… Malfoy is his Healer?”

“Right. That’s why we’re spending so much time together. For Teddy.”

Martin stood up, clearly very upset. “Come with me.”

“What? Where? We have to finish our-“

“Potter, we need to have a private talk.”

Suddenly a viselike grip was on Harry’s bicep, and he was being pulled into a Side-Along Apparition. On the other side, they were standing in the middle of an enormous, flat field with small shoots of wheat just pushing up through the soil. “Where the hell are we?!” Harry demanded, wondering if he could draw his wand fast enough to incapacitate Martin.

“Middle of nowhere. I come here for private conversations. No one around for miles or we’d see them. How sick is Teddy?”

“He’ll be fine.”

“I never thought they’d have the bollocks to try to hurt him, you have to believe that.”

“They who?” Harry said carefully.

“Those bastards at St. Mungo’s. Is that what you’re working on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“My brother-in-law is one quarter Shide. They sterilized my sister before any of us knew what was happening. From what I was able to piece together, I went to then-Head Auror Robards and told him what had happened. Now, you need to understand that this was my first year as an Auror, which means that it was just before You-Know-Who took over the Ministry. Just when he was setting all of his Death Eaters into position for him to take over without a hitch.”

“Robards was a Death Eater?” Harry asked. “That’s not in any official reports.”

“You think any Auror is going to admit that we let a dark wizard not only into our ranks, but that we let him lead us? That he was right under everyone’s noses for _years_ , and no one ever suspected? You know the department better than that, Potter. Robards was questioned quietly-“

“And then he tried to escape?” Harry prompted. He knew what he was hearing; he’d heard Aurors talk like this when they were cleaning up the department after Voldemort’s fall.

“It was war, and he was a traitor. I didn’t fire the final spell, but neither do I hold anything against the one who did.” Martin took a steadying breath. “When I went to him, Robards wiped my memory of the case and of the leads I brought him. I still don’t remember the names I had. Within days the war was upon us in earnest, and most of us had to run from the Ministry when Minister Scrimgeour was taken. It was open war in the Ministry itself, and I had to hide my family and run.”

“You never re-opened the case?”

“Harry, by then I didn’t know anything about it. My sister told me again last year what had happened to her… I didn’t believe her at first. After all, why wouldn’t she have told her brother the Auror straight off? And then when I came to terms with the fact Robards had wiped the memory, I assumed that the problem was done with the war.” He shook his head at himself, his dreadlocks swinging.

“What changed your mind?”

“That case we caught last month with the mysterious death of the halfling girl. She’d been to her Healer the day before. The evidence all said terrible accident, but I _knew_ in my guts it was the Healer’s doing. So, if you want help, or just a cover story, you let me know.”

“I need that file.”

“It’s on my desk. Let’s get you back.”

Ten minutes later, Harry was staring at the open file. The Healer and the nurse were both on his short list of suspects.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Martin prompted.

“You’re not wrong.” Harry stood up and grabbed his heavy Auror’s outer robe. “You said you want to help?”

Martin nodded, taking a moment to put on his own robe.

“Then we’re reopening that little girl’s case. It gives us legal standing to be in there, to question.”

“Potter, we can’t just barge in on this case.”

Harry looked at his partner, shocked.

“Subtle as a brick, you are. We play it calm, a bit annoyed. _Can you believe they’re wasting our time on this just because the simpleton halflings can’t come to terms with the girl’s death. All this for a campaign contribution. Do you believe they sent us back out on this._ Like that. Annoyed, calm, really rather above it. We’ll get more done that way.”

“What makes you think that’ll work?”

“Feigned indifference has never not worked for me. It even got my partner to come out of the closet.”

Harry smiled, and they Disapparated.

~~~

Healer-in-Charge Chase looked much like his photo; he was tall, dark and intimidating. Harry had never been so happy to have such a tall partner. Martin did his part, acting like he would rather be anywhere else. He was fidgety and just on the right side of annoying about it; through four years Harry had learned that this actually afforded Martin the ideal time to search a space without ever seeming to search it. Harry, on the other hand, had to put on the persona he hated most, the Chosen One. He had to act like this menial task was far beneath him, like this whole thing was a punishment of some kind because _clearly_ he was too good to be looking into such trivial matters. Much as he hated acting like that, he hated more that it was almost expected from him.

“I don’t see what good it will do you to see the girl’s chart. She did not die here,” Chase insisted.

Harry let out a put-upon sigh and looked disgusted. “Her… parents apparently have a lot of gold – they’re Halflings, so I’m not sure I believe that – but they’ve promised contributions to Minister Shacklebolt, and he has… extended the courtesy of this investigation. If you ask me, the girl was probably high on halfling’s weed when she fell, but orders are orders.”

“They must be offering a… substantial sum in order to send _the_ Harry Potter,” Chase said with a small smile.

Harry remembered the profile Draco had given him and adjusted the part of the Chosen One to suit the case. He gave a slightly oily laugh. “This will keep me away from his newest assistant; saucy little ginger minx that she is.”

Chase smiled, tension easing out of his shoulders. “So, the Minister does whatever he can to keep the girl all to himself, eh?”

“All is fair in love and war,” Harry said with a shrug. “And with ginger minxes.”

Chase did laugh then; the sound was gritty and without any real humor. “I suppose you can have a look, but be quick about it; you don’t want the Minister to have too much time alone with the girl.”

“Good man,” Harry said, really wishing he could unscrew the smile from his own face; it felt so fake, and he couldn’t believe Chase was buying it.

“Nurse Abercrombie will show you to the records room.” He pushed a button on his desk, and a few moments later she came in.

Harry recognized her as Teddy’s nurse. She had always reminded him of his Aunt Petunia, only with darker features; her chestnut hair was done in an over-styled upswing that was spelled in place with military efficiency, her nurses’ uniform could have been used as a deadly weapon as blade-like as the creases were, and her horn-rimmed glasses were utilitarian without a single embellishment. She clearly cared about what others thought, but more in the sense that she wanted to control the image they had of her to the point where no one would ever guess who she really was. But then, Harry knew. He knew that under all that spit and polish and rigid control was the woman who had tried to kill his godson.

“Nurse Abercrombie and I are acquainted,” Harry said, stepping just a bit out of his Chosen One persona; she would recognize the lie in an instant.

“How is young Theodore, Auror Potter?” she asked without inflection.

“To be honest, he’s feeling a bit under the weather. He woke with a slight fever the other day. His grandmother is doting, of course, but I think it will do him good to let the virus run its course.”

“Agreed,” she said with a tight nod. “But if he gets any worse, do bring him back in.”

“Oh, of course. You do take such good care of him.”

“Nurse Abercrombie,” Chase interjected, “would you please lead Aurors Potter and Martin to the records room on your way back to the ward?”

“Of course, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“No, thank you.”

It was all so pleasant and genteel, Harry thought as he followed Nurse Abercrombie’s controlled steps down the corridor. No one would ever guess that these people were bigots and murderers. He allowed his mind to turn to Lucius Malfoy for a moment, a man of tight control and generous charm and vaults that had been filled for generations; and yet he had been a bigot and a murderer. But Harry had known when he’d first met the man that he was slippery and prejudiced. The Malfoy fortunes might have kept him in the right circles, but he never actually hid the fact that he was a total bastard and would happily stab his best friend in the heart if he thought he had reason.

Chase, on the other hand, was a Healer. He had gone into the profession and trained and worked to save lives through both wars. He had worked hard to wear the crossed bone and wand; he was well-liked and well-respected, and he was a stone cold killer. The same with the nurses and the other Healers who were in on the plot; they were worse than wolves in sheep’s clothing: they were wolves in shepherd’s clothing. They were meant to help and heal and ease suffering, and instead they were deeming who was and was not worthy of having a child and then which children were or were not fit to live.

“It’s this door here,” Abercrombie said, pointing to an open door. “I have no doubt that Mr. Clark will be able to assist you. If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed on my ward.” She turned with pinpoint accuracy and continued down the hall.

Harry and Martin went to the open door and called into the file room.

There was no answer.

“I do so love being your partner, Potter,” Martin said with a smile. “Fate does tend to favor your skinny arse.”

“It really does.” Harry nodded. “Let’s hurry up before he gets back.”

“Be careful to only leave out the file we came down for,” Martin warned as Harry walked into the files room.

“This is not my first time rifling through papers I had no right to see,” Harry countered.

“Why am I not surprised?”

They got to work quickly, _Accioing_ all of the files that Harry could think of, cross referencing and copying the files into the large remembrall that Aurors carried specifically for this type of search. There were files flying through the air like seagulls that had spotted breadcrumbs. Anyone who just happened to pass by would have been certain that the files had staged some sort of revolt and were attacking the two Aurors, they were flying with such speed. They could go through the information later, but right now they needed to get as much as possible, as quickly as possible.

They had just gotten the last file back into place and were starting to copy the original file they had come in for when Mr. Clark came in with a cup of coffee and a sandwich.

“Oy! What’chu think you’re doin’?”

“Aurors Potter and Martin,” Martin said as Harry copied the file to a piece of parchment. “We’re conducting an investigation.”

“I don’t care who you are; can’t nobody be back there but me.”

“We’re here with Healer-in-Charge Chase’s permission. We waited twenty minutes for you to return, but the Ministry is on a tight schedule.”

“And I borrowed a piece of parchment,” Harry added. He stood up, making a show of folding the copied pages. “Thank you for your time.”

Poor Mr. Clark was left rather dumfounded, staring after them with his lunch in his hands.

“Someday, Potter, someday you’re going to show me the trick to making fortune my bitch.”

~~~

Harry knocked on Draco's door at half six. He had a bag of take away and a satchel full of illegally seized medical records.

Draco opened the door barely a crack. “What do you want, Potter?”

“I want you, but you know that.”

“Good night, Potter.”

“Wait! I need a Healer I can trust to look over some files. It’s for the case.” He held up the paper bag. “And I have brought Italian food as a bribe. You have to let me in, or I’ll be left with all of this Giordano’s, and I can’t possibly eat it all myself.”

“You got take away from Giordano’s? The only authentic Italian wizards’ restaurant in the country?”

Harry nodded and waved the bag enticingly.

“No physical contact,” Draco warned. “You will sit on the other side of the room.”

Harry nodded. “If that’s what you want, I’ll keep my distance. I really did come for the case. If you want any hanky-panky, you’ll have to initiate it yourself.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Potter,” Draco said with a scowl, even as he opened the door. He waved vaguely at the small table, and it was suddenly set.

“You have amazing control of wandless magic,” Harry commented.

“Healers can’t always hold a wand,” Draco said. “Put the files on the coffee table, and we’ll look at them later. I’ll get us drinks.”

Harry tossed his satchel onto the coffee table and then took the bag of dinner to the table; he set out the unbreakable china serving dishes and realized that there weren’t any serving utensils on the table. He followed Draco into the kitchen. He stopped dead when he saw Draco bent over in front of the cooling cabinet. His cock gave a pleasant throb and started to fill as he saw that arse so nicely displayed. He had a quick fantasy about walking up and just ravaging Draco then and there, then he adjusted himself slightly in his now too-tight pants and remembered why he’d come in the room. “Serving spoons?”

“Third drawer,” Draco said, coming out of the cabinet with a bottle of wine.

Harry went to the drawer and was selecting the proper serving utensils when suddenly Draco was right next to him.

“Mind your head,” he said as he opened the upper cabinet and stretched to reach the red wine glasses.

Harry was faced with that long, lithe body right there next to him, close enough that he could feel the heat of Draco's body through his robes. He took a moment to appreciate the feeling and that’s when he saw it; there was a telltale bulge in Draco's robes. Harry smiled to himself and stood up just as Draco was coming down with the glasses. The result was that the two of them were standing millimeters apart, breathing the same air, and it was suddenly charged and erotic.

Draco slowly lowered his arms, putting the glasses on the countertop. “Why did you come in here, Potter?” he asked without moving away.

“I needed serving spoons.”

“You could have summoned them.”

“You could have summoned the glasses,” Harry countered. He took a small step forward, intending to bring his body and Draco's into contact, but instead Draco backed up a step. Harry kept advancing, and Draco kept retreating until the pantry door was at Draco's back, and he had nowhere to go.

Draco whimpered softly, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

Harry stared at those parted pink lips in wonder, but he kept true to his word and didn’t make a move; he just stood there, inches away, breathing in Draco's breath and feeling his body thrumming like a too-tight bowstring. He’d never known want like this; he had never before wanted someone so much that he pulsed with it in every cell of his body.

Draco didn’t understand why he felt so helpless to this. He’d never been helpless before to any lover, and yet, after a couple of kisses and a bit of a make out, Harry Potter had him off-centre. Now here he was, in his own home, in his own kitchen, backed against a wall – quite literally – and he wanted nothing more than to just let go and let it happen. He’d wanted Potter as long as he could remember, so what was the harm in reaching out and taking what he wanted? So he did. He reached out his hand and carded his fingers through Harry’s untamable hair, pulling Harry to him for a kiss.

Harry tried not to smile as Draco gave in to what they both wanted; he dove in at the small invitation and kissed Draco hard. It wasn’t the best kiss he’d ever given, but there was too much inside of him right now for finesse.

They started pulling at each other’s clothes without ever realizing it. Their bodies were reaching out and taking what they wanted without any input from the higher brain functions. They were caught in a primal need for _more now_ , and the kitchen was quickly covered with discarded clothes.

As Harry was unbuttoning Draco's trousers, he realized that he had the opportunity to do something he’d been fantasizing about. He dropped to his knees and licked the length of Draco's newly-freed thick, reddish cock. As Draco moaned above him, Harry took just a moment to really get a feel for the taste of another man, the weight of a hard prick on his tongue, and the slide of foreskin against his lips as he took Draco's length into his mouth experimentally. Draco's hands were suddenly buried in his hair as Harry tried to get as much of the length in as was possible without gagging.

“Relax your jaw,” Draco said, his voice husky and breathless. “Let your tongue do the work.” The pressure around Draco's prick eased just enough to come back from clumsy to fantastic. “Yeah, like that,” he encouraged as he tried not to thrust into the inviting heat of Harry’s mouth. “Use your hand on the base and the bollocks.” His own head fell back against the pantry as a wave of bliss spread through his body. As Harry pulled off on the next stroke, he did something unexpected; he slipped the tip of his tongue under Draco's foreskin and prodded gently on the hidden glans. Draco was lost to the sensation of it, his hands fisted in Harry’s hair, his body arching and trying to take more; he tried to simply not come. Harry Potter was a born cocksucker.

Harry unfastened his own trousers and worked his jealous prick slowly, trying to draw this out.

Draco looked down at Harry and saw him; Harry’s everywhere-hair was more of a mess than usual with Draco's hands buried in it, and he was staring up at Draco almost worshipfully. His pupils were blown, and his thick lips were red and puffy where they were stretched around Draco's heavy cock; and while one hand was still on the base of Draco's dick, the other was wrapped firmly around Harry’s own. Draco felt his own cock jump inside of Harry’s mouth. “I’m going to come,” Draco warned.

Harry was flooded with pride when Draco's broken, lust-filled voice reached him; he’d put that sound in Draco's throat, he’d driven the man he’d always wanted to the brink of orgasm, and he was going to be the one to swallow down whatever Draco gave him. His own hand worked faster as he approached his own crashing orgasm.

Harry felt Draco's balls draw up in the palm of his hand. He felt the silky skin grow suddenly hotter. He heard Draco above him as he moaned and keened and cursed; Draco's hands tightened in his hair painfully, and Harry pulled back just a little and prodded Draco's sensitive glans with his tongue again. Draco gave a strangled shout, and suddenly Harry’s mouth was flooded with bittersweet come as it shot out of Draco's cock fast and hard. Harry swallowed as fast as he could and fought off the cough that threatened. Suddenly, he was gagging just a bit as Draco pushed back into his mouth farther than Harry had pulled him before and shot the last of his load right down Harry’s throat.

Harry started to panic, and he slapped at Draco's hands where they were clamped in his hair and tried to push Draco away.

Draco realized what he’d done; he was so used to partners who had trained themselves to deep throat that he hadn’t thought anything of pushing into Harry’s throat when he came. He pulled out of the delicious warmth of Harry’s mouth too fast, and suddenly Potter was choking and sputtering and gasping for air. Draco dropped to his own knees and pulled Harry into his arms, even as he coughed a deep, hacking cough. “Slowly. Shit, I’m so sorry. Slow deep breaths. I didn’t think. Do you need some water?”

Harry shook his head no and coughed again.

“Alright then. Just take slow, even, deep breaths.” He pulled Harry to him tighter to stop the panic attack, and when that didn’t seem to be working, he reached down and took Harry’s deflated prick in hand. He used his most come-hither voice right in Harry’s ear. “Relax, Potter, work back up for me. No fair you not getting to come. You have to relax so you can come. Don’t you want to come all over me?”

It worked. Draco's calm, sexy voice and his strong arms and his sure grip all brought Harry back to easy breathing. As soon as he had oxygen, he felt his prick filling back up and felt the painful ache in his balls; he did need to come.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said again. “You drove me so over the edge that I lost all control, and I shouldn’t have let myself do that.”

“I kind of like that you did,” Harry admitted with a raw voice.

“Barring the lack of oxygen, naturally?” Draco prompted.

“Have we ever done anything the easy way?”

Draco smiled and felt the tension and fear that Harry would reject him now just seep out of him. He leaned in and kissed Harry deeply, tasting himself all over Potter’s mouth. He worked his hand with strong, sure strokes, and Harry moaned into his mouth and wrapped his arms around Draco. “What have you done?” Draco asked into Harry’s open mouth.

“Not much,” Harry admitted. “The only thing I’ve done with anyone else has been with you. That was my first time giving a blow job.”

“You’re a natural.”

“Barring the lack of oxygen at the end?” Harry said with a self-deprecating laugh.

“That was my fault. You are a cocksucking god.”

Harry smiled and moaned as Draco fisted his hand tighter.

“So, what have you done by yourself?”

Harry blushed and looked quickly away.

“None of that now. I nearly killed you with my come, so there are no secrets left. Do you use your fingers on yourself?”

Harry nodded, and the blush spread down his chest.

Draco licked Harry’s neck, nipped at his earlobe and whispered, “Do you use toys?” Harry didn’t respond, but Draco saw the blush grow to circle his nipples. “You do, don’t you?” Draco was surprised at just how much that turned him on. “You have a glass or silicon cock that you work in and out of your own hole, don’t you?” His own spent cock twitched with interest. “Do you spell it so that it rams into you on its own? Or do you prefer to use your own hand, your own touch?” He unconsciously moved his hand down, playing teasingly at Harry’s bollocks before continuing down to where the pants and trousers blocked his view.

Harry was caught in Draco's words; it was embarrassing, but he would never ask Draco to stop. It was turning him on too much. That long-fingered, talented hand was traveling down and down, and he knew where it was going, and he was _aching_ for someone else to touch him there, to take him and brand him with their touch. He shifted his hips wantonly as Draco teased one fingernail over his perineum.

“Do you want this, Harry?” That hand teased just a bit closer. “Do you want me to push my fingers into you? To stretch you? To drive a part of me into your body?”

“Oh god, yes,” Harry moaned.

Draco concentrated on the spell he needed - he usually did this to himself and wasn’t sure he could make it work on another bloke - but then Harry’s whole body contorted as he cried out and nearly came, and Draco knew he’d gotten it right. “Relax, that was just lubrication,” he said gently as he swirled the pad of his middle finger against Harry’s tight hole.

“Please,” Harry whimpered. He turned his head and kissed Draco demandingly.

Draco slowly pushed his finger into Harry’s body, amazed at just how tight his hole was. Toys or no toys, this was a virgin hole, and that thought alone brought Draco back to full hardness. “Come to my bed.”

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Harry argued, too close to the edge to care.

Draco was frustrated and grabbed hold of Harry’s hand and brought it over to his full prick. “Come to my bed, Potter. I’m not going to take your virginity on the cold, marble floor.”

“I’m too close; I’ll never make it,” Harry admitted. He was already holding back with everything he had, and only the tip of Draco's finger was inside of him.

“You’d better recover fast,” Draco said, a hint of menace in his voice. He pushed his finger in the rest of the way and pushed Harry back to lie on the floor. “Pull your trousers down,” he instructed and smiled when Harry did as he was told eagerly. He pulled them off Harry’s feet and flung them across the room, and there he was, Harry Potter naked and hard and ready to burst and impaled on Draco's finger.

Draco leaned up and pulled Harry’s over-sensitized cock into his mouth. Harry’s hips lifted off of the floor as he tried to push himself further into that mouth, that heat. Draco sucked for all he was worth and thrust his finger over and over until Harry loosened just enough and then he pushed in a second finger and finger fucked him in counterpoint to the blow job.

Harry didn’t last long. He held back as long as he could, but this was _Draco_ touching him and sucking him and pushing into him over and over and over, and he was lost. His body locked, his breath caught and the climax burst out of him like a living thing.

Harry blissed out for a moment from the intensity of it, and when he came back to himself, Draco was right there, kissing and licking all over his body. “Wow,” Harry managed.

Draco looked up from where he’d been tracing Harry’s tanned abdomen and smiled. “You think that’s good, wait until you come on my cock.”

Harry’s exhausted dick tried to rally.

“Oh, good, you do recover quickly.” Draco stood with grace and ease and reached a hand back for Harry to help him up. “Bedroom,” Draco instructed as soon as Harry was standing. He then led the way back to the darkened room.

A swish of Draco's hand and the lights came on at a dim setting. Like the rest of the flat, the furnishings here were utilitarian and minimalist, or they were until you looked at the bed. It was a huge four poster with thick, grey drapes that had a sparkling thread running through them; it was covered in a thick, black, down comforter; the pillows and the hint of sheet at the head had a slight sheen that spoke of a fabric that was sexy and silky.

Draco walked over to the bed and pulled down the comforter and the top sheet. Then he kneeled on the mattress, his pale skin glowing against the contrasting silky sheets, his cock jutting proudly from his pale curls, and he crooked a welcoming finger to Harry.

Harry walked up, a sudden flutter of nerves in his stomach.

Draco crawled to the edge of the bed and kissed Harry sensually. “Much better than the cold, marble floor, I can guarantee.” He smiled but saw the slight apprehension in Harry’s eyes. He took Harry by the hand again and brought him onto the silky island of a bed.

Harry felt the cool satin under his knees as he crawled up with Draco. He noticed the fairy lights strung beneath the canopy and tried to relax as soft lips traced his jaw and neck.

“I know it’s your first time,” Draco said in that same voice that had soothed him earlier. “And I’m going to be gentle. If I do anything that you like, tell me, and I’ll do it again. If I do anything that you don’t like, tell me that, too, and I won’t do it again. You have never, in all the years I’ve known you, had a problem speaking your mind, so don’t start now. Anything that you want to try, tell me. Anything that you don’t want to try, tell me.” His hands were skimming Harry’s chest, stopping briefly on his nipples to play, carding teasingly into his thick thatch. “I prefer, when I top, to see my lover’s face. However, this is your first time, and we’re not going to do that. For the first time, that position hurts, and it’s harder to hit the prostate. And this time, you are going to need me to hit that quite a lot. So, when you’re ready, in fact, when you’re _begging_ for it, I’m going to take you from behind.”

Harry felt a warm rush of lust radiate out from his prick, warming him just a bit.

“Later on, we can try any position that you like. And when you top, you can take me however you want.”

Harry got a bit warmer.

“Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Harry didn’t trust his voice, so he nodded. Draco smiled at him, and it was somehow both comforting and predatory. Then Draco leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and gentle with none of the edge from earlier.

Their bodies tangled together, and they took their time to explore with fingertips and mouths. Harry’s callused palm slid up Draco's spine, and his fingers combed through that soft hair. The more that he learned the body and the feel and the sound of Draco in his arms, the more he forgot his earlier nervousness; the more he forgot of his nerves, the bolder he became, the more he showed Draco who he really was.

At some point they fell to the soft mattress without noticing, and the dance changed a bit, but they also melded together. When Draco rolled them and rested most of his weight on top of Harry, Harry’s erection came back to full hardness almost painfully quickly. He wrapped his legs around Draco, their hot pricks pressing into each other deliciously, and Draco thrust against him.

Harry could have come undone just from that, but Draco wouldn’t let him.

“We are taking our time here, Potter,” he warned when he realized how close Harry was again. “You are not to come until I am buried inside of you.” He grabbed harshly at Harry’s bollocks and pulled them away from his body until he heard Harry’s breathing even again.

“I want you inside of me,” Harry said, trying not to blush.

Draco kissed him. “I want that, too. But it’s not a race to the finish; it’s a long, slow exploration.”

Harry had to admit that, for him, it had always been a race. With women he had been racing to get them off and then to follow before his cock had a chance to back out, and when he was wanking, the only goal was to orgasm. This was the first time in his life he’d been treated like this and the first time he’d truly taken his time with a lover as well. He desperately wanted Draco inside of him. He ached to know what it was like to take someone, but his body was too trained for the race. “I don’t know how long I can manage,” he admitted. “You turn me on too much.”

Draco raised a brow but reached over to the bedside table. Then he pulled something down Harry’s cock. He smiled triumphantly even as Harry was sure he’d just undergone torture. The pressure on his bollocks was uncomfortable to say the least.

“Cock ring looks good on you,” Draco said, still smiling. “Now you can’t come until I take it off of you.”

Harry was actually relieved by that.

“Flip over,” Draco instructed.

Harry rolled like he was going for the new land speed record, and Draco chuckled behind him.

“So eager.”

“You know I am,” Harry said as he wiggled his arse in what he hoped was an enticing manner.

Draco leaned forward and kissed the nape of Harry’s neck; the wet tip of his prick bumped Harry’s hole casually, and both of them moaned. Rather than ravish him, as Harry had been expecting and hoping, Draco took the same slow exploration of Harry’s back as he had his front. He kissed and licked and nipped wherever the mood hit him; he went from neck, to shoulder, to kidney, to the dip of Harry’s back, to his thigh, to his ankle, then to his knee; there was no pattern to it, and Harry was so turned on by the anticipation of touch that he started rutting into the satin sheet.

Then Draco's hands were on his arse, massaging the globes and forcing Harry to be still. He kissed the base of Harry’s spine. Then one cheek. Then the other. Then there was a warm breath of air across his entrance, and Harry froze.

Draco was smiling more than he had in a long time. He was having fun showing Harry everything that he liked, and even though he knew Harry was only a virgin with men, he also knew without a shadow of a doubt that Harry was not very experienced at all. Draco took great delight in teaching Harry his own body. The fact that that same delicious body was laid out bare before him, wanton and ready for the taking, was just a phenomenal side benefit. And now he knew he was going to show Harry something he would never get over the feel of, the want of, the drive for: he leaned in and licked a wide swath over Harry’s arse and delighted at the sound of pure carnality that filled the room. When Harry started rocking back against him, he just kept licking, the length growing shorter and shorter until he was swirling just the tip of his tongue over that tight hole. Then he pressed in and heard Harry roar like a proper Gryffindor lion.

Harry had no idea that someone would want to put their mouth on his arsehole, let alone that it would feel so damned good. He was lost to it and to the need driving it - the need to be filled, the need to take whatever Draco had. He was writhing like a wanton beast in heat, but he had no control and no care. All he knew was the need for Draco. When he was speared by that tongue, the tip teasingly blunt, so very nearly like the head of a cock, he didn’t know whether to cry from the beauty of the feel or the frustration that it wasn’t what he _needed_. “Please,” he heard fill the room in a voice Harry nearly didn’t recognize as his own. “Please, Draco, stop teasing me. I need you. Please.” He pushed back against that probing tongue, seeking more, trying through sheer willpower to make it a huge, hard cock that was there to spear him open.

Draco smiled, loving that Harry was so undone by him. Harry Potter was dancing on his tongue and begging for his cock; that was the best aphrodisiac he’d ever encountered. He reached up and grabbed one of the pillows and put it down under Harry. He pulled away, smug at the whimper that Harry let loose, and took control so he wouldn’t hurt his lover. “Harry,” he said, his voice rough with lust, “I need you to listen to me.”

Harry forced some amount of control back into his brain, forced his overloaded senses to hear what Draco was saying, and he nodded.

Draco kissed between Harry’s shoulder blades. “Rest your hips down on the pillow.”

Harry flattened out the lower half of his body.

“Excellent. Now, bring your knees out.” He helped Harry move so that his legs were in a frog position, taking all of the strain and all of the weight off his arse. “Good, good. Now, I need you to relax and keep breathing.” He took hold of his own desperate cock and lined up to Harry’s loosened hole. “Keep breathing,” he murmured when he felt Harry tense in anticipation.

Harry felt that blunt head as it was prepared to push into him and push him open, and he couldn’t help just that one moment of apprehension and fear, but then Draco's voice was there, and Harry released the breath he was holding and let the tension flow out of him. The pressure he felt as Draco's prick breached him was amazing and delicious, and the burning as his body adjusted to the intrusion was enough for him to cry from the beauty of it. Draco was hot and massive and _real_.

Draco pushed in as slowly as he could; Harry’s channel was tight and hot and swallowing him perfectly. It took all of his strength to hold back, to not push in and _take_ what he wanted. His whole body was shaking as he kept himself tethered to simply sink into Harry’s body at Harry’s pace. When he was finally, finally, finally fully seated, his hips snug against Harry’s incredible arse, he sighed in relief and kissed Harry’s back and shoulders.

Harry couldn’t believe how different this was, how intense, how amazing to have Draco's hot column of flesh buried within his body. He was hot, and full and it was so, so, so, so good. He heard himself groan.

“You’re incredible,” Draco whispered against the flesh of Harry’s shoulder. Draco needed to move, needed to come, but he was unwilling to move before Harry was ready, before Harry had adjusted to that first intrusion. When Harry groaned and unconsciously canted his hips, Draco could have wept for joy. “That’s it, Harry,” he encouraged. “That’s just right. Take your time.”

Harry chuckled gently, “When did you discover patience?”

“Oh, Potter, just you wait and see all of the interesting things I’ve learned.” He rolled his hips and drove himself against Harry’s prostate, making Harry cry out in ecstasy.

“Please, Draco,” Harry begged, “please don’t tease me.”

“Tell me if it gets to be too much,” Draco said. When he saw Harry nod, he pulled out and pushed back in; it wasn’t the claiming thrust he wanted, but nor was he willing to hurt Harry. Instead he worked to gradually build up speed and force until at last he was thrusting into Harry’s body with enough force that the sound of their slapping skin echoed throughout his bedroom. Harry was taking it all, meeting him thrust for thrust and calling out, demanding more, harder, faster. Draco reached down and wrapped his long fingers around Harry’s leaking cock and felt the shiver pass through Harry’s body. He gently took hold of the cock ring that was holding Harry torturously on the precipice and gently pulled it off his bollocks and then off his cock.

“Oh, thank god,” Harry murmured, still trying his hardest not to come the way his body was demanding and had _been_ demanding for what felt like forever now. Then Draco's voice and breath were in his ear.

“Harry, you can come now. Come on my cock, Harry. Come for me.”

Harry was without choice; he came and came and came in thick ropes through Draco's fingers as Draco pulled his orgasm expertly from him.

Draco was fascinated by the beauty of Harry lost in the throes of passion: his body bowstring tight, his head thrown back, and his cock pulsing. “You’re beautiful,” Draco heard himself say, and then he, too, was lost.

Later, they were sprawled naked across Draco's massive bed, feeding each other linguini with clam sauce, sipping white wine and looking through the pilfered files.

“I can’t believe you actually had a valid reason for knocking me up,” Draco said as he made more notes.

“You told me to back off. I was being a gentleman.”

“Right up until you blew me in the kitchen.”

“Right up until then,” Harry agreed.

Draco stretched and yawned, and Harry was momentarily captivated. “Sorry,” Draco said. “I haven’t slept much.”

“Tomorrow is Sunday,” Harry said. “Aren’t you closed on Sunday?”

Draco nodded.

“Then we’ll put this down, and you can have a bit of a lie in.” He started stacking the files and putting them on the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m assuming that you don’t want to sleep on the files.”

“I’m not done, Potter. There are lists and charts and graphs that I have to create. There’s data to compile.”

Harry tried not to laugh. “You like paperwork that much, you should have been an Auror. But for right now, we need to get some sleep.”

“But-“

“No. I have to get Teddy at dinner tomorrow, and we need sleep.”

“Oh.”

“By the way, dinner is at half seven. My floo will be open to you.”

“Why would it be?”

“Because you’re invited for dinner,” Harry explained slowly.

“Leave the files. I’m not done.”

Harry lifted a hand, and the dinner dishes all flew to the kitchen. Draco's cigarettes soared into Harry’s hand. “You’re getting worked up,” he said as he pulled two out of the pack. As he puffed on them, they lit, and then he handed one to Draco.

“You smoke.”

“Only after sex. So… no, not really.” Harry laughed lightly.

Draco took a long drag and visibly calmed. He waved a hand and the files all lifted, shifted into some order that only Draco really understood and then landed on the bureau. “You didn’t summon the ashtray,” Draco said.

Harry just chuckled. He took only a few drags and then summoned the ashtray and stubbed out his cigarette. “I’m really not used to this anymore.”

“And here I thought that you were kidding.”

“Only about half,” Harry admitted as he climbed up the bed and stretched out beside Draco. “I smoked when Ginny and I were together.”

“Tell me that’s not the last time you shagged?”

“No. But she was the last relationship.”

“Is that what you think this is?” Draco said without inflection.

Harry smiled. “You might have taken my virginity, Malfoy, but I’m not stupid enough to think that means we’re in a relationship. If you’re more comfortable kicking me out, though, you should let me know now because I’m knackered, and I have to get the files together. They’re evidence.”

“I wasn’t kicking you out.”

“I’d like it if we took the time,” Harry said. “It takes time to form a relationship, and I would like to take it… the time… with you.”

Draco tried not to smile. “Don’t be such a girl, Potter.” He stamped out his own cigarette and put the ashtray on the bedside table. “I’m only letting you stay for the files.”

Harry did smile and spooned up to Draco when he lay down. “I never had a doubt.”

“And I’ll only be coming to dinner to see them again.”

“I know it.” He kissed Draco's neck. “G’night, Draco.”

“Sleep well, Harry.”

~~~

Like most mornings, Harry was up with the sun; unlike most mornings, he had his arms wrapped around a lean body, silky hair teasing his chin, strong arms wrapped around his waist and a strong erection poking him in the hip. Harry couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. He nuzzled Draco's hair and felt his morning stubble catch.

“Why are you awake?” was mumbled against Harry’s shoulder.

“Early riser,” Harry replied.

Draco gave his wicked little chuckle and shimmied against Harry. “I can feel that.”

“I miss this.”

“What’s that? Use small words, I’m uncaffinated.”

“I miss waking up with someone. Having someone’s arms wrapped around me, legs tangled with mine, hair stuck in my mouth if I breathe too hard… wait… I don’t think I did miss that part.”

Draco slapped Harry’s arse.

“Mmm, don’t mind that.” Harry chuckled. “And I do readily admit that the hard prick is a wonderful addition.”

“I’m rather attached to it.”

“Rather sharp-witted for pre-caffeine.”

“True wit is something you simple Gryffindors will never understand.”

“Cheeky bastard.”

“Make me coffee.”

“Oh, a demanding, cheeky bastard.”

“You woke me up at this ungodly hour on my _day off_. The least you could do is make me coffee.”

Harry let his hands wander over Draco's soft skin. “How about…” He kissed down to Draco's pale neck. “-I use your body for my own nefarious purposes…” He nibbled lightly on Draco's earlobe. “-lull you back to sleep with a fantastic morning orgasm…” He pinched and played with one of Draco's nipples as his lover arched in for more. “-and then I’ll shower and dress and then make coffee _and_ breakfast.”

“Well…” Draco pretended to consider the idea even as his body wrapped itself around Harry’s. “I did promise to show you all of the wonders of the male lover. I don’t know, though… expecting a decent shag before a decent cup of coffee…”

“Coffee _and_ bacon.”

“Well, then, there’s nothing for it; I’ll just have to let you have your wicked way with me.”

~~~

Harry was cooking dinner and quizzing a reluctant Teddy for an upcoming spelling quiz -which Teddy didn’t know about, but his tutor Bradley had warned Harry and Andromeda both-, when the floo should have been activating. Draco should have been striding out of green flames and verbally tearing Harry’s bachelor pad to shreds. It was nothing like the minimalistic flat Malfoy kept, rather Harry preferred slightly cluttered and in-need-of-a-good-dusting, with Molly’s lovingly-knitted afghans tossed over the back of his shabby sofa. Teddy’s things were strewn about just as haphazardly as Harry’s own. Harry wondered if maybe it was some sort of perversion that he was looking so forward to what Malfoy would say.

Half seven came and went with no sign of Draco.

Harry stopped holding dinner at eight and tried not to pout as he and Teddy tucked into their meals.

Nine thirty and he had Teddy bathed, teeth brushed, story read and sound asleep under his Martin the Mad Muggle comforter. Harry started pacing. There was nothing left to do, no day-to-day distractions to keep his mind off the fact that he’d been stood up.

He flashed back to memories of that morning, of warm bodies sliding together between sleep-warmed sheets, of pushing his hard length into Draco’s willing body, of the slow pace they had set and the lingering kisses they had shared; he remembered how Draco’s long legs had felt wrapped around his hips and how Draco’s fingers had clutched his shoulders, nails biting into the flesh of Harry’s back as they had climbed closer and closer to amazing release. Afterwards, they had remained joined until their bodies had naturally disconnected; they had kissed and joked and talked, and then Draco had drifted off to sleep in Harry’s arms. Harry had taken a shower and dressed after he found his clothes where they had been strewn about Draco’s perfectly-arranged kitchen, and then he’d set about making them a morning fry up. Draco had come out of the bedroom, hair mussed from love making and sleep, pillow marks on his face, lured by the scent of coffee and bacon. It had been… idyllic.

There hadn’t been any signs that Draco hadn’t been right there with Harry, looking to start a relationship, enjoying their time together, enjoying working on the case together. Nothing had made Harry think he was going to be stood up.

He adjusted his now-half-hard prick (damn Malfoy for being so sexy) and grabbed the floo powder without thinking. He was going to give that prat a piece of his mind!

His anger had grown to the point that once he had his head in the fire and was looking at Draco’s flat, it took him a moment to realize what he was _seeing_. The sofa cushions were all cut open and scattered on the floor - it seemed to be raining down feathers from the ripped-apart pillows - and drawers were upended with their contents strewn across the floor. It looked like a war zone.

Harry pulled his head out of the fire and locked down his wards without thinking twice. He’d heard someone in that flat. Whoever had done that to Draco’s home was still there. And Draco wasn’t.

Harry was on automatic as he changed efficiently into battle garb and pushed his wand into its holster. He packed a quick bag for Teddy and shrunk the evidentiary parchment files into a hidden compartment of the bag before casting a feather-weight charm and making the compartment completely invisible to anyone but himself. He picked Teddy up, missing the easy weight of a toddler, shushing his complaints with a simple _Harry has to go back to work, love, go back to sleep_ and took him to the floo.

He landed at Ron and Hermione’s to see Ron pacing with the baby in his arms.

“What’s wrong?” Ron whispered, never pausing his rocking motion. Hugo was a fussy baby, and clearly it was Ron’s turn to get him to sleep.

“Case just went south,” Harry whispered back. “I need to leave Teddy with you, do you mind?”

“Not at all, mate, you know that. Did’ja need backup?”

“I’m going to wake Martin. Look, Ron… this case… it’s off the record for right now. Though I think it’s going to come out now. But-“

“Don’t worry,” Ron said with a smile, “I understand. Go get Teddy settled in the spare room. And if you need me, you call me.”

“Thanks, mate.” Harry took Teddy to the spare room where he always stayed when he was over and laid him down carefully. He didn’t even stir, this was not the first time for this kind of exchange unfortunately. “Love to Hermione,” he whispered as he went back through the main room.

Ron smiled and nodded while he kept singing softly to Hugo and pacing the floor.

Harry grabbed a pinch of powder and flooed to Martin’s house. “Hope you’re decent,” he called by way of hello.

Pricilla looked up from her stack of ledgers and smiled, her smallish eyes crinkling behind her large glasses. “Hello, Harry, what brings you over in your Gods-I-hope-I-can-get-the-blood-out-again kit?” She walked over to him, already in her pajamas, which was her habit this time of night, her robe billowing behind her as she came to give him a quick hug.

“Unfortunately, I have come to drag your S.O. out in the middle of the night and directly into the path of danger.”

“It really should worry me more that you smile while you say that.”

“You’re too used to Aurors.”

“I’ve been doing this dance for too many years now. Let me go get him for you.” She walked off to the back of the house where Harry knew the den was.

“Potter?” Martin came out, confusion obvious on his face.

“Our informant’s flat was broken into and ransacked with no sign of him. I changed kit and took Teddy to Ron’s. We need to get a move on.”

“Damn. Bastards. Ready in two.”

Pricilla watched her lover go and felt worry in her gut. “This new case you two caught is weighing on him.”

“It’s weighing on us both,” he admitted.

“Then be careful out there. No lost limbs. No blood loss. No loss of anything.”

“Yes, ma’am, it’ll be win-win-win.”

“Hoo Rah.”

Martin came jogging back downstairs in his battle kit, kissed Pricilla quickly and they headed back to Harry’s flat. “I know his wards will let me in,” Harry explained.

“Right. Wands out, Potter.”

“Good to go,” Harry confirmed, and they were gone again in a rush of green flame.

Even having seen it earlier, Harry was shocked at the state of Draco’s flat. He and Martin made their way quickly and quietly through the mess, clearing rooms as they went. First the main room, then the kitchen, with its broken dishes, silverware and foodstuffs covering the cold tile of the floor. Harry led the way back down the hall, stepping over broken picture frames, then they cleared the bathroom and the spare room, and they sealed the door of the potions lab when they saw the green plume of smoke gathering in the air – they would have to get a cleanup crew in ASAP or risk the whole building. The last door was Draco’s bedroom, and that’s when they heard someone on the other side of the door.

They readied their wands when they heard a mirror shatter, and then burst in. Martin laid out the intruder with a quickly-fired stunning spell. The intruder fell to the floor in a heap of black robes and Harry conjured ropes to bind him as he and Martin cleared the rest of the room and the en suite.

“Malfoy’s not here,” Martin said once they knew there was no one else in the flat.

“I’ll start the tracing; you call the Ministry and get a team in here and a cleanup crew for that lab. This case just went on the books.”

“Can’t disagree with you there. What are you going to tell Proudfoot and the Minister?”

“That I kept Malfoy hidden due to the case. It’s not a lie.”

Martin nodded and went out to make the firecall.

~~~

Shacklebolt and Proudfoot kept Harry behind closed doors for fifteen minutes while they tore into him about proper procedure and never keeping cases off the record.

“I had to take it off the record,” Harry finally snapped, “because someone here in the Ministry was helping to protect these bastards while they were mutilating women and murdering children.”

The two superiors were quiet for a moment.

It was finally Kingsley who spoke up. “Did you think for a moment that it was one of the two of us? I thought you knew us better.”

“Sir, you know that I didn’t. But the fact is that you both take notes all the time and the situation was too fragile-“

“Honestly, Potter,” Proudfoot huffed.

“I’m not going to apologize. The fact is I had no evidence until _yesterday_ that anything was even going on. There are members of the squad who have been _Obliviated_ when they got too close, and I wasn’t willing to risk anyone but myself.”

“Hell of a risk to take without evidentiary support,” Kingsley tutted.

Harry just looked at him.

“I see your point.” The Minister nodded; he knew Harry too well, and honestly, this was not the least he’d ever had to go on. “However, we can’t support any Auror going rogue. You’ll be off a week with pay. Go finish your case. And get your reports done before you leave this time.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry said with a smile and a nod before running full tilt back to the Aurors’ bullpen, which was alight with activity.

Martin fell into stride with him. “The team has been briefed, and Nurse Mayweather says that it looks like the clinic was undisturbed.”

“Thank Merlin for small favors.”

“Seems like a damned big favor if you ask me.”

“They took Draco,” Harry hissed. “I’m going to disembowel them.”

“Sounds like you’re just about ready to head into interrogation,” Martin said with a smile.

“Has he said anything?”

“Not yet. Mostly just sitting there… simpering.”

“Is he under Imperius?”

“I honestly don’t know. No one has been able to get him to say anything, but the tears… doesn’t feel like Imperius to me; they’re usually sitting there like blank canvases, no emotion.”

“You’re right. Alright, let’s get in there and get the information we need.”

“Am I going to have to pull you out?” Martin asked honestly.

“Probably.”

“That’s reassuring, Potter, thanks.”

Harry squared his shoulders and walked into the interrogation room. He slammed a piece of parchment onto the table and took a seat. “I believe I owe you a piece of parchment from our last meeting, Mr. Clark.”

Clark just held himself tighter and whimpered.

“Where is Healer Malfoy?” Harry demanded.

Clark didn’t say anything.

Harry was trying very hard to hold his anger in check. “Who told you to go to his flat? Nurse Abercrombie? Healer-in-Charge Chase?”

Clark acted as though he had been physically slapped.

“You didn’t think we knew about that?” Martin laughed. “Boy, when we were in your file room, we took _every_ file having to do with sentient non-humans. Every. Single. One.”

“You can’t do that!” Clark cried out. “That’s personal, that is! Can’t you go in and take that, Auror or not!”

“He speaks,” Martin feigned surprise.

“When in the course of an investigation, we have every right to look at those records,” Harry corrected drolly. “Tell me, did you know what they were doing? The forced sterilizations? The poisonings? The murders? Are you aware the kind of scum you’re in bed with?”

“They ain’t murder no body!” Clark defended.

“Why?” Harry prodded. “Because they’re murdering non-humans and mixed breeds?”

“That kind has no business comin’ into a proper hospital like St. Mungo’s is. No business atoll. Comin’ in and puttin’ on heirs like they’re better’an us proper humans. Disgusting. And when they told me what that Malfoy was doing, I was only too happy to go in and toss ‘is place, I was.”

“Did they tell you what you were looking for?” Martin asked conversationally.

“Files. Said ‘e’d ‘ave files on them what we’ve missed.”

“So you just went in to find files, that’s all.”

“Right,” Clark was feeling more confident. “That’s all it was. An’ I don’ see the problem. ‘E was a Death Eater ‘e was. D’ju know that? It’s on the record. An’ why ain’t anyone askin’ what’s a Death Eater doin’ helpin’ out _that kind_?”

“Good question.” Martin was hitting his stride and also managing to keep Clark’s attention off Harry. “And so you went in and tossed the place.”

“S’right. That’s all I did. I don’t know nuffink about where ‘e is.”

“Besides,” Martin led, “when the Healer-in-Charge tells you to do something, there’s not much room to argue.”

“You are right about that. Besides, ‘e trusts me, knows ‘oo ‘e can depend on.”

Harry couldn’t help the quick smile. “Stephen Clark, you’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit.” He stood and tried to let go of the anger, but instead just felt it coiling in his gut, ready to spring into action. “You’ll be processed,” he said as he left the room, Martin right on his heels.

“We could have gotten more on him.”

“They have Malfoy, and now we know who. We’ve got enough.”

“You had better hope so.”

It took half an hour to get enough Aurors in the hospital in plain clothes to have sufficient backup and all of the exits covered without causing a panic. Harry and Martin, with Peterson and Murphy for backup, Apparated into the outer office of the Healer-in-Charge. They felt the change in the wards as they made them Apparition-proof. Harry and Martin burst into the office in time to see Draco Malfoy haul back and give Chase a proper Liverpool Kiss, bashing their skulls together with a sickening crack.

“About bloody time!” Draco shouted at Harry and Martin as he dropped a dazed Chase to the floor. “I ask you this, Potter, what the hell use is it having a Gryffindor around when I have to rescue _myself_?”

“Sorry, love, bureaucracy is a bitch.” Harry walked into the room properly. “Trust a Slytherin to ruin a Gryffindor’s moment.” He saw Nurse Abercrombie on the floor as well. “They forgot that you’re a Healer, too, didn’t they?” Harry asked, remembering what Draco had said about Healers needing to be able to do wandless, wordless magic.

Draco nodded.

And that’s when Harry saw it: the fear, the exhaustion and the blood that had soaked through Draco's light hair near the base of his skull. He walked over and pulled Draco to him in a tight, bracing hug. “I’m sorry,” Harry said, meaning it this time. “I kept trying to get to you, but…”

“Fat lot of good you do, choosing to follow the rules now.”

“I told off Shacklebolt,” Harry offered.

“And well you should have.”

“We’re far from done, but I’m going to get you to Nurse Mayweather and have her take care of you. Last thing you want right now is to have to worry if you can trust your Healer.”

Draco just nodded against him. “You’re hugging me in front of your partner,” he said quietly.

“I know. But since I came out to him before we actually started anything, I think it’s alright.”

Martin, who was binding the two unconscious prisoners, just grunted.

“See,” Harry said. Then he kissed Draco lightly. “Let’s get you looked after.”

~~~

The sun had long since risen by the time Harry got to the clinic to see Malfoy sound asleep on the couch and Nurse Mayweather sitting primly behind the counter, working on some sort of paperwork.

“How is he?” Harry asked.

“Better,” she answered. “I didn’t let him upstairs. I didn’t think he was fit for it last night.”

“Probably a good call.”

“Did you arrest them all?”

“We think so. We have no way of being sure, but as far as we can tell, we got them all, even those embedded in the Ministry.”

She raised her steel-grey eyebrows, surprised that he’d been willing to admit that out loud.

“Is there any chance you can rearrange his schedule and give him the day off?”

“I already have. He only works the afternoons on Monday. I’ll be here in case of an emergency, but barring that he should be clear.”

“You’ve been up all night as well; don’t you need sleep?”

“I’m half elf, Auror. Our metabolisms work on a different schedule.”

Harry nodded, trying to hide his surprise and half ashamed that it had been there. “I’m going to get him to a proper bed then. Thank you so much for all of your help last night and today as well.”

“Stop buttering up my nurse, Potter,” Draco said sleepily.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Harry was at his lover’s side in an instant.

“I’m tired, but I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I’m knackered. Ron and Hermione are going to keep Teddy until this afternoon, so we can get some sleep. Then I owe you a home-cooked dinner.”

Draco shook his head gently as he stood and slipped an arm around Harry’s waist. “You Gryffindors, can’t do anything by half; you don’t just come out of the closet, you do so at a dead run, screaming your fool head off.”

“And don’t you forget it,” Harry agreed as he steered them out to the lobby where they could Disapparate.

~end


End file.
